A Reflection from Lampang, Thailand
Christmas has a way of quieting the world.
Here in Lampang, Thailand, the season does not arrive with snow or carols echoing through centuries-old churches. It comes more subtly—in pauses, in reflection, in the space to notice what is often overlooked.
That distance is precisely what allows certain truths to come into focus.
As we move toward the 250th anniversary of American independence in 2026, I find myself reflecting—half a world away—on an unexpected theme that still resonates deeply today: care.
Not care as sentiment.
But care is a responsibility.
Care as courage.
Care must hold the whole person.
When Survival Depends on Care
Revolutions don’t fail first because ideas are wrong.
They fail when people break.
George Washington understood this. Not in modern language, but in lived experience. He recognized a hard truth that transcends time and geography:
No army—and no nation—can endure if its people are broken in body, spirit, or trust.
Long before we spoke of integrated care, he practiced it. He insisted that those who carried the weight of a cause were not expendable—and that their bodies and inner lives mattered.
That insight feels especially clear when viewed from outside the American story, from a place like Lampang, where history reminds us that human endurance is never just physical.
Caring for the Body Was Not Optional
Washington demanded the best physicians for his troops—an unusual insistence in an era when disease killed more soldiers than battle and medical care was often neglected.
This insistence carried a simple but radical message:
Safety and trust matter.
When people feel safe, healing becomes possible.
When they feel as if they are disposable, damaged compounds.
That lesson travels well. It applies far beyond 18th-century battlefields—and far beyond national borders.
Caring for the Inner Life Was Essential
But Washington also understood something deeper.
A person can survive physically and still be shattered inside.
So he demanded the best chaplains as well—leaders who could tend to fear, grief, despair, and moral injury. Care that created meaning. Care that reminded people they were still human.
What we now call whole-person or integrated care begins here:
With the refusal to separate body from inner life, or strength from vulnerability.
From Lampang, that truth feels especially resonant. Many cultures understand intuitively what modern systems still struggle to integrate—that healing is relational, contextual, and never purely technical.
Why This Matters at Christmas
Christmas tells a similar story.
It does not begin with power or certainty, but with vulnerability:
- a child
- a displaced family
- fear, uncertainty, and waiting
The Christmas story does not glorify domination.
It sanctifies presence.
Care enters the world quietly—and changes it.
Washington’s insistence on caring for both body and spirit echoes that deeper rhythm: people cannot flourish unless they are seen as whole.
Truth, Complexity, and Honest Care
Christmas is also a season that invites honesty.
Washington’s life—and the founding of the United States—were deeply entangled with slavery. That contradiction cannot be ignored. It violates humility and respect and stands in tension with any claim of universal care.
Yet even within that broken beginning, there were signs of a wider hope.
The Revolution was sustained by diverse patriots whose service pointed toward a future not yet realized:
- Pvt. Shadrach Battles, a free Black soldier from Virginia
- Pvt. Robert Mush, a Pamunkey Indian soldier from Virginia
They carried a promise that did not yet fully have them.
Care asks us not to look away from such truths—but to respond to them responsibly.
What Care Asks of Us Now
From Lampang, looking outward, the question feels less national and more human:
What does it mean to care for the whole person—really?
It means:
- acknowledging visible and invisible wounds
- honoring lived experience
- refusing to reduce people to systems, labels, or outcomes
- choosing presence over perfection
These questions sit at the heart of the My28Days community. They are personal. Cyclical. Lifelong.
And they matter everywhere.
Carrying the Covenant Forward
Distance has a way of clarifying what is essential.
From Lampang, the lesson that emerges—at Christmas, and on the threshold of a significant anniversary—is this:
True strength is sustained by care.
Not care that excludes.
Not care that looks away from contradiction.
But care that is willing to see the whole human being—and stay.
As we move through this season, may we carry that covenant forward:
For ourselves.
For one another.
And for those whose stories are still waiting to be fully told.
Because true independence—personal or collective—is sustained not only by those who fight for change, but by those who care for the human being who bears its cost.
Take care and be well,
Dr. Lawrence M. Nelson, MD, MBA
Director, My 28 Days® Initiative
President, Mary Elizabeth Conover Foundation, Inc.
